School Daze: The Rock Fight

Day 32

I hated my 7th grade at Killarney so much but things unfortunately did not get any better. My parents divorced and I moved to Richmond, Utah with my mom, we moved in with my grandparents in time for my 8th grade year at North Cache.

My 8th grade year was slightly better than my previous year at Killarney. I was picked on and bullied for much of my time here. And the worst of it came during gym time. Oh man I hated gym class.

My teacher had these fingers that were dislocated and broken from playing football but now they were hardened and unbending. He used to jab these fingers right in your chest when you did something stupid or wrong. He would line us all up to take roll and he would stop and ask each student. "Clean or dirty?" He was referring to our jock straps. You would have to pull out the strap so he could see that you were actually wearing a jock and not faking it. Only the stupid students would say "dirty". If you did he would jab those fingers right in your chest so hard it would leave a bruise. But he was not the worst of it. My class was full of all the buttholes that would torment and bully me. And gym class was just another excuse to bully me. Funny thing is that I could really tell some embarrassing stories of what went on in the gym locker room. I could name names but I think I would be too embarrassed to actually say what went on in there. Especially to the jock that thought he was really all that.

I didn't mind running around and playing games but I am not totally competitive. Especially competitive to wanna-be-jocks. They irritated me the most and I would throw games and act stupid just to piss them off. And I know I pissed one off specifically. He was much larger than me but half as smart. The best part is now he is totally fat. I would love to run into him someday and say, "Wow, you really got fat didn't you." I knew I would get picked on more for throwing basketball games but it was worth it so piss him off.


But that is not the story I want to tell. One day we had a substitute teacher named Mr. Forsgren. We met out on the running track made of rocks and I was out there waiting for the rest of the class to get out on the track. I was kicking some of the rocks and I wasn't looking where I was kicking. Some of the rocks hit him and he says "You wanna have a rock fight huh?" No I didn't, I didn't even know what a rock fight was! He picked up a ton of small rocks and chucked them at me. So the fight was on. I looked down and picked up a large rock, one that would be good for skipping and I threw it at him. KERPLOP! He hit the ground.

I didn't know that throwing bigger rocks in a rock fight was a no-no. The rock I threw cracked him right behind the ear and he was on the ground. I panicked. I killed the sub! One of my fellow classmates saw the whole thing and started to laugh. I thought I was dead. Mr. Forsgren got up and was majorly ticked off, he ran right after me. I took off thinking I would just keep running until I got home. But he was not running after me. He was running after the kid that was laughing at him. He tackled him swearing at him. "You think that was *BLEEP* funny?" He was on top of my classmate yelling.

I felt bad so I yelled at the teacher (I was keeping my distance) and told him I was the one that hit him. Maybe he thought Brent was the kid that threw the rock at him. Mr. Forsgren yelled back, "I know it wasn't *BLEEP* him! You got me, pure and simple. You *BLEEP* won!" He made Brent run laps all during gym. I hit Forsgren so hard with the rock that it knocked him out for a second. I could see the blood all over his neck and left shoulder. Surprisingly, he didn't get mad at me. I won the Rock Fight after all.